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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27407779">Casting On</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things'>storm_of_sharp_things</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>James Bond (Craig movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Developing Relationship, Fluff, Knitting, M/M, Terrifying Old Women</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:56:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27407779</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond and Q are delicately knitting a relationship together but Bond is far too free with gift-giving for Q's taste.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Bond/Q</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Lap's Birthday Lovefest</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Casting On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapsang_and_earlgrey/gifts">lapsang_and_earlgrey</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A birthday drabble for lap that sort of...got away from me...<br/>^_^</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Hullo, Q. Happy birthday, Eve.”</p><p>Q looked up from his phone as Bond dropped into the third seat at the small cafe table and offered Eve a flat box neatly wrapped with a pretty ribbon.</p><p>“James! You shouldn’t have,” she said even as she accepted the present with clear delight. Opening the box, she lifted out a silvery scarf, elegant and finely knitted. “Ooooh, how gorgeous! Wherever did you find this beauty?” she asked, wrapping it around her throat.</p><p>It complimented her sapphire-blue dress nicely, Q thought, and suppressed an eyeroll at the thought that James Bond knew how to pick his moments.</p><p>Eve was petting the ends as she examined it. “It’s so soft! But there’s no label — it’s not machine-made?”</p><p>“Hand-knitted,” Bond agreed, his eyes crinkling as he beamed at her. “I’m glad you like it.”</p><p>“I love it! Tell me, did you find it on Etsy? Some crofter on a moor somewhere raising heritage sheep and spinning their own yarn with traditional implements?” She grinned and caressed the scarf again.</p><p>Bond laughed. “Something like that.” He nodded at Q with a smile and a sparkle in his eyes as he rose to his feet again and strode away.</p><p>Q sipped his tea and watched him go thoughtfully. Bond had seemed calmer this year, more relaxed. Q wondered at it but was distracted when Eve smacked his arm with the end of the scarf.</p><p>“Did you notice that gorgeous cabled jumper he was wearing? I must suss out what shop he’s found.”</p><p>Q snorted. “Good luck prying information from 007, Eve, even if only about a shop.”</p><p>She made a dismissive noise and stroked the scarf again, smiling at it.</p>
<hr/><p>A few weeks later, as the leaves on the city trees were starting to burn into fall colours, Q was startled to find M in Tanner’s office with his foot braced on the edge of the desk and his trouser leg hiked up. Tanner was leaning close to his leg, apparently peering at M’s charcoal grey sock.</p><p>“Ah, yes! It <em>does</em> look like a dragon scale pattern,” he said, leaning back with a smile. “Subtle! Never seen anything like it. Q, take a look at these socks Bond gave Mallory for his work anniversary.”</p><p>“...socks,” Q said.</p><p>“Hand-knit,” Mallory replied, pleased. “They even came with special washing instructions.”</p><p>Tanner nodded. “He said he had a pair in mind for <em>my</em> upcoming anniversary, which is lovely, don’t you think?”</p><p>“Lovely,” Q echoed with a tight smile, feeling more than a bit left out. R had already received a scarf as well, and one of his minions had been given a warm and soft knitted blanket as a baby shower gift. Bond was certainly passing along a significant amount of business to this online shop, Q thought as he stomped back to his office.</p><p>He and Bond were engaged in a cautious dance that Q had been hoping would lead to more. But apparently, sharing late-night takeaway and letting Bond take naps on his office sofa meant much more to Q. For <em>his </em>work anniversary, Bond had given him a selection of tea. Very fine tea, granted, but hardly on the same level as hand-knitted <em>socks</em>.</p>
<hr/><p>Bond was sent on a mission a few days later which meant that Q was deprived of the opportunity to scowl at him meaningfully as he’d intended. It also meant that the plans they’d tentatively made for Q‘s birthday were off. What was worse was Bond’s curious distraction during the mission downtime. Normally, if it was safe, they’d text, perhaps spend at least a little time unofficially on the comm. But this time, Bond was rushed or distracted when they did chat and one afternoon he was entirely unavailable for a couple of hours.</p><p>M gave him hell when he finally answered the comms and Bond took the dressing-down in stoic silence, only answering that he had had an important errand to run and it would not happen again. Q burned a little in embarrassment at M’s implication that Bond was engaged in sexual shenanigans, the more so when Bond didn’t bother to deny it. The rest of the day passed in stiff, strictly necessary, communication and Q went home that night to mope, lonely and disappointed.</p>
<hr/><p>The next day, Q was summoned by the front desk for a visitor. Out of sorts despite telling himself to be an adult about spending his birthday alone and working, he scowled mightily and went to see off whatever nuisance had arrived.</p><p>An elderly woman with a stiff brushcut of white hair, visible tattoos, combat boots, and an elegantly crocheted shawl laid over a dress made apparently of patches of other clothes was jittering impatiently by the desk. She waved her cane at Q and held up a paper bag with handles.</p><p>“You! I’d know you anywhere from Jimmy singing your praises for months and months on end. You <em>are</em> a delectable looking tidbit, though not to my taste, more’s the pity.”</p><p>“Er...” Q managed.</p><p>She gave him a sharp down and up look and then the corner of her mouth turned up. “Well, he thinks the sun and moon turn at your bidding. He must, to be risking the sweater curse for you. Here you are, morsel, his birthday gift for you. He’s been slaving away on it for the longest time but apparently he got called away on a work trip and had to finish it wherever he ended up. All I know’s it was delivered to me by courier yesterday with a note begging me to block the damn thing overnight for him. And to see that you got it today.”</p><p>She waved the bag at him and Q took it, a little stunned.</p><p>“Well, go on, morsel, don’t keep me waiting. Looks like he got it right but you never know until it’s on, do you?”</p><p>He blinked and reached into the bag, pulling out a mass of soft green knitting. He held it up and spread it out, finding a breathtaking forest-green jumper with a faint tone-on-tone leaf pattern, highlighted with subtle glints of copper.</p><p>“Looks like he got the colour right for your eyes, didn’t he? And to think we teased him for the hour he spent picking out the wool.”</p><p>Q ignored her and slipped off his jacket to pull the garment on over his button-down shirt. He couldn’t help running his hands down the front of it to feel the softness.</p><p>The terrifying old woman made a sound of amused approval. “Fits like a glove. Well then, morsel, I’m off. Tell Jimmy to bring you by the next meeting and wear that so we can all appreciate his hard work in person.” She nodded at him and strode off, waving her cane threateningly to part the MI6 personnel in the lobby like water, leaving Q blinking.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Did you knit this yourself?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Oh thank god, Estelle got it to you. Happy birthday, Q. Do you like it?</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I love it, thank you. Did you knit it?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>This has the distinction of being the first mission I’ve brought my knitting on, so you should be proud. I’m sorry I’ve been distracted, I was trying to finish it in time.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>On a mission.</em>
</p><p>There was a pause before the reply arrived. <strong><em>It was important.</em></strong></p><p>
  <em>Your priorities...anyway, the terrifying old woman wants you to bring me to a meeting? Probably to be eaten alive. She kept calling me ‘morsel.’ Are they all like her, ‘Jimmy’? </em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Oh god, Q, I’m sorry... </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>...yes. Yes they are.</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Well at least you haven’t joined a boring knitting circle. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>LOL</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>no, they’re not boring. You could bring your laptop and I think you’d be perfectly content. </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Did you just LOL at me?</em>
</p><p>Another pause. <strong><em>I miss you. I’ll be finishing up tonight and fly back tomorrow.  Can I take you out to a belated birthday dinner tomorrow night?</em></strong></p><p>
  <em>Will I need to break you out of medical first?</em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>No...! Hah. I should be offended but I’m laughing. Wear the jumper?</em> </strong>
</p><p>Q petted the silky bundle in his lap. <em>Yes. See you tomorrow, ‘Jimmy.’</em></p><p>
  <strong> <em>Tomorrow, Q.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Q knew it was his imagination but it sounded softer, a warm whisper of a text. He smiled and contemplated the consequences of letting it become known that James Bond, double-oh of song and story, legend among legends, was part of a knitting circle. Q smirked. A hand-knit jumper and blackmail material. He loved receiving multiple birthday presents....</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The <strong>sweater curse</strong>, according to Wikipedia, goes something like this:</p><p>
  <em>Knitting especially large or fine garments such as sweaters can require months of work and, as gifts, may have a strong emotional aspect. The so-called sweater curse expresses the experience that a significant other will break up with the knitter immediately after receiving a costly hand-knit gift such as a sweater. A significant minority of knitters claim to have experienced the sweater curse; a recent poll indicated that 15% of active knitters say they have experienced the sweater curse firsthand, and 41% consider it a possibility that should be taken seriously. </em>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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